


Assortment Magnified

by snarechan



Category: Dissidia: Final Fantasy
Genre: Drinking, Family, Fashion & Couture, Father-Son Relationship, Ficlet Collection, Flowers, Friendship, Humor, Leather Jackets, Magic, Makeup, Multi, Rivalry, Romance, Scheming, Sunburn, Tails, Training
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2018-08-16 20:59:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 5,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8117398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarechan/pseuds/snarechan
Summary: An eventual compilation of all my Dissidia-themed short stories.





	1. Balloon

**Author's Note:**

> Years ago when I was active on Livejournal I would scour the website for prompt communities to participate in. I'm in a cleaning mood lately and found some partially completed sets from there, and decided to finish what I could and finally post them. I don't remember where I found these, otherwise I'd link back to the group (if it's even still around), so I apologize if anyone wanted a list of their own to try. :( As I add parts I'll update the tags since each short story varies in genre, characters used, pairings or no pairings, etc. 
> 
> Proofread by me and edited by Keppiehed.

“We should throw a party when this is over,” Tidus announced to his traveling group at large, wanting to break the silence that had encompassed them. “With, I don’t know, tasty food, streamers and balloons, loud music. That kind of stuff.”

“Where would we acquire such novelties?” Cecil asked, unsure if he was actually onboard with this idea.

“With ten people, I’m sure we can get creative. I’ll make my own music if I have to,” Tidus suggested. “And one of you has to be a good cook, right? What about you, Cloud?”

“…Maybe we should concentrate on winning first,” Cloud said. He refrained from commenting on his abilities. “We can worry about the small stuff later.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Tidus said. If he was disappointed that his discussion was cut short it didn't last for very long. “At least it gives us something to look forward to!”


	2. Marble

"Ye- _ouch_."

Cecil winced at Tidus' exclamation, although not for its intensity. He'd already predicted what his traveling companion was about to say and ducked his chin, as if hiding his discolored face would buffer him from the conversation. Tidus leaned in close, following his retreat, and stared at the large patch of sensitive skin.

"Is that sunburn? I haven't seen a case that bad since I was a kid and my friend fell asleep on the beach."

He supposed Tidus would have some kind of experience with this, given his own tanned physic. Like his personality, he burned as bright as the sun, whereas Cecil was incessantly reminded time and again that such exposure was his downfall. Everyday nuances, even such simple things as talking, painfully stretched the damaged skin. He would have donned his helmet to hide the blemishes if not for the chafing.

"I'm afraid so. I may have…overdone it, these past few days," Cecil said.

The back of Tidus' gauntleted knuckle was gentle enough not to put too much pressure in turning the skin from red to its original pale hue as he stroked below his eye. Cecil had to refrain from moving. The touch was cool against his worn face and Cecil ached for more before the metal adjusted to match the temperature of his skin.

"Well, if there's one thing I know, it's how to cure a little overexposure to the elements. Better take care of it now before it starts to peel," Tidus advised.

Cecil could only nod in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in more Cecil Harvey/Tidus, please do consider [reading this ficlet](http://snaurus.tumblr.com/post/151216325532/tlc) inspired by my short story, as written by glyphenthusiast over on Tumblr!


	3. Amber

Squall didn't like this place. He didn't much care for _anywhere_ , but the giant columns and jagged edges of the gemstone platforms made him nervous. More than once he'd taken a step and identified cracking underfoot, whenever he was capable of not sliding across the slick surfaces. His boots were tailored for uneven terrain and his gait steady, but he would feel less agitated the sooner he was gone from here.

Laughter halted him in his escape. Starting as a giggle, the sound intensified as the amusement grew and echoed off the colorful stones. Squall gripped his gunblade tighter and got into a stance, only tilting his head thereafter to try and identify the origin of the noise.

"Aw, what's a little furball like you doing all by their lonesome? This just won't do!"

Although Squall had limited contact with them, he recognized the sorcerer known as Kefka. Few were the enemy who were _amused_ by this conflict and the resulting bedlam it inflicted on its participants.

"Face me, clown," Squall said.

To his surprise, Kefka complied. His face appeared on every crystal, muddied yellow and beige as he stared at him in various states of clarity and size. Squall sneered and hefted his weapon off his shoulder, choosing the closest facade and opened fire. The stone exploded into many serrated chunks, but it didn't reveal the mage's location.

"Oh come on, show me some claws already! I've seen kittens with more moxie than you. Is this why you're out here all alone?" Kefka taunted.

Squall kept aiming and firing, cutting and stomping his way through the terrain. With each face he stabbed into, Squall came no closer to discovering his enemy. Some of the gems simply re-grew in place, producing double the amount. Kefka's countenance stared back at him in each one.

"I don't need friends to take down the likes of you. You're as much a joke as your sad excuse for humor," he said, stumbling a step as he found himself at the edge of a crystal platform.

"Sorry pussycat," Kefka said, all of a sudden in Squall's ear. "But _I'm_ not the punch-line here."

And with a force Squall hadn't imagined him possessing, the sorcerer shoved him off and into the void below.


	4. Coin

Zidane and Bartz first looked to the right, then looked to the left. There were two paths to take, neither indicating whether or not they were safe to travel, much less led to where they were hoping to go.

“Left!”

“Right!”

Both exclaimed at the same time, offering opposing ideas, and with a huff Zidane pulled out a single gil. He said, “Let’s flip for it, okay? You call it.”

“Heads!” he said, watching as Zidane sent the piece of money into the air and caught it, placing it over the back of his hand and revealing that it was tails. “Looks like we’re going your way, then.”

Bartz paused, though, giving the coin a closer look, and asked, “Hey, wait a minute. Isn’t that mine?”

“Nope!” Zidane said confidently, tucking the gold piece out of sight and making a mad dash to the left.

“Yes it is! Come back here!”

“Gotta catch me, first!”


	5. Beach Ball

In his clawed hand, Jecht caught the blitzball aimed at the back of his head. The metal tips dug in and almost deflated it. Though Tidus had intended the action as a threat, his father turned in the boy's direction and smiled, open-mouthed and carefree.

"Don't turn your back on me!" Tidus seethed.

Jecht bared his teeth in return, albeit not for the same reason. "Oh-ho? You think you're ready to take on your old man with _this?_ "

He wasn't supposed to confront his son yet. Mateus had made it known in no uncertain terms that to engage him was against his stupid grand plans, but Tidus' antagonism was infectious. His tenacity and competitive spirit rivaled Jecht's own. The brat had taken on his worst qualities tenfold, apparently.

"Sorry, kid, but I don't have time to—"

"You've already told me that! How about you _make_ time, huh?"

Tidus rushed him, upper cutting the blitzball still in his hand and directing it toward Jecht's face. Jecht used its direction to his advantage, headbutting it right back at him. His son dodged, tilting his head to the left and digging in his heels with the intent of putting distance between them. He caught Tidus by the ankle as he leapt in retreat and knocked him into the ground, catching the blitzball in his other hand as it bounced. When Tidus slammed into the stone so did the ball, the force of it cracking the floor next to the boy's head.

"Take a hint already, and accept you can't do this. Some of the best have tried and failed," he lectured. Jerkily, he let both the blitzball and his son go to resume his leave. He didn't look back this time, not even when Tidus' gasping turned choking and wet.


	6. Powder

“I don’t get why you’re putting that stuff on,” Jecht said, giving Kuja a glance as he applied eyeshadow with a precise and steady hand. “It’ll just get ruined when you get in a fight, you know?”

“I wouldn’t expect a mongrel such as yourself to understand,” Kuja said without a break in his task. To his chagrin, the comment only made the swordsman laugh. Jecht continued to lounge nearby; he took up most of the seat as he rested his arms over the back and let his legs stretch out in front of him. What his lazy bulk didn’t occupy, his weapon did, leaning close at hand.

“Damn right, I wouldn’t. I’m gorgeous without having to apply that…whatever. The ladies can’t keep their hands off me.”

Kuja scoffed, allowing himself this once to be overly vocal about his doubts, despite how undignified the action was.

“Yeah, as if you’re one to talk,” Jecht said, leaning in. “I bet you can’t keep your hands off me, either.”

Without hesitation, Kuja blew into his make-up, causing the excess powder to go straight into the other man’s eyes. Jecht cursed, scrabbling at his face as he tried to skirt back, and ended up falling off the surface they were both sitting on.

Feeling justified, Kuja smugly clicked his compact closed.


	7. Top Hat

There’s something to be said about the bravery of moogles, especially ones that lived here between worlds in which the Cosmos and Chaos conflict took place.

“Special today!” one such courageous moogle said to its customers, Terra and Onion Knight. “Ten percent off everything.”

It’d rolled out its pack of goods and laid them out, and there was quite a variety of items for them to see. Everything they could ever need and more was there, and Onion Knight tried to figure out how such a small creature could possibly carry that amount around without getting crushed.

“Oh!” Terra said, causing Onion Knight to lose track of his thoughts, and watched as she pulled out something from the pile of headgear. It was a delicate-looking tiara covered in jewels, and it shone as only gold could. “It’s so lovely!”

She tried it on and there was no need to adjust the fit. Somehow, it suited her perfectly. Seeing how it accented her eyes made Onion Knight’s mouth suddenly run dry.

“How…how do I look?”

“Like a princess!” he said, and meant it.

Terra was taken aback by his declaration, but she smiled in gratitude, albeit shakily, as if she wasn’t sure the comment was really directed at her. When she asked for the price, the moogle’s answer had her hurry to try and remove it. The object was more than she could afford. Tossing his logic to the wayside, Onion Knight was eager to offer the money and play off his action when Terra protested, knowing she just had to have it.


	8. Circle

“What’s going on?” Zidane asked Cecil, who was sitting with Tidus and Firion. He’d heard a commotion involving metal-against-metal, and when nobody had scrambled to prepare for an assault, he’d assumed it was a sparring session of some kind.

“Our brothers in arms, Squall and Cloud, are engaged in a battle of skill,” Cecil confirmed, inclining his head in the direction of the two combatants. “Come, join us. They have not been at it for very long.”

Zidane crouched with his hands on his knees and observed Squall unleashing a barrage of fiery bullets from his gunblade. The projectiles surrounded him in a halo before exploding towards Cloud. He was on guard and his monster of a sword took the brunt of the attack, but Cloud staggered from the impact.

“How’d Squall manage this? I thought Cloud was, ah, hesitant about this sort of thing?”

“Beats us!” Tidus said in Cecil’s stead and placed both hands behind his head. “Cloud probably figured it wouldn’t take long to wipe the floor with him.”

“Yeah, right, more like the other way around,” Zidane said, scoffing.

“ _Our_ Cloud, defeated by a measly pea-shooter? Something’s wrong with your head if you think Squall can take him on like that.”

Smirking, Zidane gave Tidus a sidelong glance and asked, “Want to wager on it?”

“You’re on! Five gil on Cloud,” Tidus said, quick to answer the challenge. Firion jostled him in the shoulder for the offer.

“This isn’t the time for that, you two. Cloud and Squall are on the side of Cosmos; we should be in favor of them both.”

“Oh, so you’re betting on a tie? Got it!” Zidane declared, making a checkmark in the air with his finger to denote that he’d added him to his mental list of gamblers.

“No, I don’t—”

“Hey, you guys, what’s up?” Onion Knight asked, the next to join them. Zidane ushered him over and detailed what was happening, mentioning the betting pool last.

“So what do you think?”

“Isn’t it obvious? They’re evenly matched,” Onion Knight said, to which Zidane and Tidus yelled, “Nuh-uh!” in perfect unison. They were convinced that they were in the right, and began to cheer their selected side.

“Knock him on his butt, Cloud!”

“Rah, rah, rah, Squall! You can win!”

Across the field, neither Cloud nor Squall understood what the sudden enthusiasm was for, and didn’t permit it to distract them from the task at hand.


	9. Feather

Squall twirled the good luck charm between his fingers, as had become his habit, while he walked from area to area. He didn’t need to look at it anymore to know how it moved or what the light did to the color.

From the moment Bartz offered him the gift to now, he still wasn’t sure what to make of it. A part of him had grown attached to having it. The feel of it in his gloves was a reassuring, solid reminder of what he had set out to do. The more sensible part of Squall scolded himself for growing accustomed to the weight of it in his hand, in his jacket and close to his skin. It was silly to rely on a physical object when he should be counting on his personal resolve to see that he got through.

In protest of such self-critical thoughts, he gripped the feather tighter. This was different, he could tell, and didn’t imply weakness. He fully intended on returning it. He could and would give it back to its rightful owner, but in the meantime, it was…maybe, somewhat, kind of nice to appreciate it.


	10. Black

A chill coursed along Terra's spine and she shivered. Her hands rubbed her upper arms in a feeble attempt to restore a sense of warmth into her skin. It wasn't clear what set off the reaction, but she suspected it had something to do with the sensation of being watched. Like cruel, cold eyes boring into her back and—

She gasped as something dropped onto her shoulders. The solid weight turned out to be Squall's leather jacket. The fur collar tickled her nose as she turned her head to stare curiously at him. Squall continued on ahead, not sparing her a glance or an explanation.

Terra's fingers trailed from her elbows to the warm material, testing the feel of it, before she grasped the softened lining and drew the jacket close. It smelled of gunpowder and sweat, but Terra didn't mind. She clung to the dark jacket for comfort as well as heat.

"Thank you," she timidly said and hurried after her traveling companion. Squall might not have heard her whispered gratitude except he missed a step and she saw a glimpse of his face with the scar across his nose as he turned to nod at her over his shoulder in welcome.


	11. Silence

"Yo!" Jecht called and ambled over to Golbez's sitting spot. The knight wasn't startled by the man's sudden appearance, but he was surprised when Jecht dropped something in his lap. The object in question was a bottle of alcohol. Jecht remained in possession of one for himself.

"And to what do I owe this unexpected hospitality?" Golbez asked. He did not intend to consume anything Jecht was willing to digest. Golbez was sturdy in stature, but he wasn't invincible – or stupid.

"What'a mean, 'special occasion'? We're alive, that's as good a reason to drink as any!" Jecht said, laughing. He threw back the swill and gulped once, twice, then sighed. " _Damn_ , that's hearty stuff."

Golbez said nothing and returned to his purpose at the Lunar Terrain: gazing at the moon, the stars and the sky. Jecht was remarkably silent during Golbez's contemplation and continued drinking for most of the night.

He had his doubts that such a miraculous occurrence would last.

"I can't wait until this is over."

"So eager to be without a reason to fight?" Golbez asked, already predicting Jecht's answer.

"Tch, _no_. Fighting's healthy for the spirit, if you ask me! Reminds us that we're still ticking. But this war? Too crazy."

"Tired of taking orders, I presume," Golbez said. He wasn't referring to Chaos when he spoke, and Jecht knew it.

The man frowned into his drink when he replied, "Yeah, that, too. And save the lecturing crap! I don't need _that_ on top of the bossing around. The fuck you disappointed in me for, anyway?"

"I am not the one you have disappointed."

"Ya know, you're such a buzzkill, and yet you're still better company than those other whack jobs," Jecht said, scowling, and took an irate chug from his bottle. Golbez didn't deign to reply, unsure if it was a compliment or an insult and not caring to find out which it was.

"Speaking of, there's one of the devils now," he said, noticing a minion of Chaos. Kuja floated in the distance, intent on something, and didn't spare them a glance until Jecht made a racket. He waved his alcohol around to garner Kuja's attention. The contents sloshed and threatened to spill. "Hey, Feather-head!"

The magician gave him a scowl that twisted his entire countenance. "Drinking on the job? Does your imprudent behavior know no limit?"

"Don't be jealous, man. If you want to join us and have fun, just ask," Jecht said.

"Preposterous, this isn't intermission! None of us can afford a moment to be wasted, most of all _me_ ," Kuja snapped and flaunted off in a tizzy.

"Surrounded by workaholics," he groused. "That prissy bastard wouldn't know how to live if it killed him."

The man finished his drink, turning the container upside down and shaking the bottle to be sure. Jecht looked truly depressed by the fact it was empty. Golbez offered the one given to him since it'd gone untouched, but Jecht refused to accept back his gift.

"Nah, you deserve it more than I do. Just because you're not as uptight as those other guys doesn't mean you don't need loosening up. Drink, drink! Be merry and all that shit," he said. Jecht gave Golbez a pat on the back that had enough gusto behind it that even someone of Golbez's frame lurched forward. He resigned himself to the treatment, like he did all else.


	12. Elated

Something brushed against Bartz's back.

The arbitrary touch wasn't harsh or threatening, but the suddenness of it made him curious enough to glance over his shoulder. There was no apparent source for the contact. Zidane sat conversing with Squall behind him as the group took a rare break. Dismissing the occurrence as his imagination, Bartz turned around and was intent on examining the finer points of gaudy purple and neon pink tile when he felt the touch again.

Whipping around, he saw his companion's yellow tail leisurely curl over the side of their makeshift seat. It twitched to-and-fro before moving up and swatting Bartz in the small of his back again. He noted that Zidane didn't seem to consciously move the extra appendage. The tail stirred and batted the air whenever and wherever it pleased as the person attached to it kept speaking.

Bartz waited for the tail to make another pass. His fingers darted out to catch it. He missed, his hand hitting nothing and then smacking the surface of his perch as he missed a second time. Soon, it became a sort of game to attempt and capture it. After several chances, Bartz snatched it by chance, and he let out a bellow of triumph. "Got'cha!"

The minute he announced his success, Squall and Zidane looked to him, the latter in particular bemused since it was his tail being help up like a prize. "Uh, what are you doing?"

"I wanted to see if I could nab your tail. It's pretty fast, you know," Bartz explained. "I bet no one else can beat my record – it took me only four tries! I kept track."

"As if anyone would want to," Squall said.

"You sure you don't want to try?" he asked, holding the body part out to him. Squall sounded jealous and put out, and Bartz figured it wouldn't be fair to hog all the fun. The other man shook his head, though.

Zidane waggled his tail in Bartz's hold, saying, "Now what?"

"Oh, I hadn't thought that far. I guess I can let it go." He did so reluctantly, victory feeling short-lived.


	13. Yellow

Squall awoke to an aching head and a throbbing in his left arm. It was easy to deduce that he'd been knocked unconscious, but what confused him was the moving grass. Past his lashes his vision was filled with it, and when he opened his eyes wider there was a clearer set of bright, yellow shoes. The footwear in no way belonged to him – that much Squall knew.

Dragging his chin, Squall's skin brushed against a matching yellow jacket. That was all he needed to figure out who carried him. "Tidus?"

"Morning, Whiskers!"

 _Does he really need to sound_ that _cheerful?_ Squall mentally groused. Grunting, he asked, "What happened?"

"Dunno. Came across you lying face down in the dirt and fixed you up best as I could."

"Hn," he accepted. Squall decided he must have been caught off guard, although he'd evidently been the victor if he was alive. Squall demanded to be put down.

"If you're sure," Tidus relented. He didn't waste a reply; Tidus must be confident in his condition because he adjusted Squall's weight. He crouched, permitting Squall to sit on a raised platform. Once finished, Tidus joined him. There was little space remaining between the two of them after Tidus rested back on his hands.

Squall re-called his gunblade and checked it for dents or scratches, finding none. He set the tip of the sword into the ground and gripped the handle with the palm of both hands, resting his forehead on top of his knuckles. He said, "You don't have to stay. I'll be fine on my own from here."

"I'm…relaxing. Yeah!" Tidus said. "Carrying you was a lot of work. You're heavier than you look."

 _Lightweight_ , he thought and let his eyes shut.


	14. Trust

Chaos was unsettled by recent events. As a creation of such unlimited power, perhaps he had fooled himself into thinking that he was above the notion of doubt. Sitting on his throne, surrounded by nothing save his own thoughts, Chaos was given the opportunity to do something he'd never done: question.

He questioned his existence, his subjects, and Cosmos. The first was fleeting – his purpose most of all, with his warriors dismissed second. Garland had spoken to him, encouraging Chaos when his musings wandered, but he wasn't present with him right then. Not as his enemy came unbidden to his mind.

Cosmos. She was— _had_ been—his rival in all of this, and her absence was felt in a peculiar way. Where Chaos assumed he would feel delight in her defeat at his hands, instead he was bitter and…ashamed. The end to this conflict did not leave him proud, if a creature such as him was capable of such an emotion.

When next he spoke with Garland he would have to ask him why this was.


	15. Indigo

Emperor Mateus lounged on his throne, chin cupped in one hand as he appeared to doze. The illusion was shattered with the arrival of Ultimecia. Her footsteps were feather-light on the purple tile as she approached. He did not acknowledge the witch until she slid onto the armrest. His eyes opened at the rustle of her settling wings.

"Golbez is not to be trusted," was Ultimecia's greeting; they were past frivolous pleasantries.

"As I predicted he would be," he said. "The sentimental fool."

"Kuja is also useless to our cause. Nevermind he is already associating with that disgrace, Kefka."

Mateus nodded and waved a hand as if in dismissal, though the act contradicted his next words. "Do not underestimate them. It pains me to admit, but Kefka has the potential to become… _a hindrance_. He is unpredictable. Shrewd. If Kuja is with him then they need to be watched closely or eliminated swiftly."

"Hmph. Kuja is the self-destructive type. He should not be a challenge to get rid of," she noted. Ultimecia didn't hesitate to brush aside some of the emperor's hair to better reveal his ear. Her clawed fingers never came close to nicking his skin, and she leaned in closely.

"I leave him in your capable hands," he said, neither pulling back nor bowing to her touch. "Sephiroth… That is another character we need be concerned with. It would be in our best interests to have him on our side."

"And what would you suggest?" she asked, lips so near.

He smirked and rose from his seat. Ultimecia didn't foolishly let her eyes wander. The emperor held out a hand, which she took and rose to her feet. "Why, to have a little chat with our dear comrade. He is sure to see reason if he were confronted by the both of us."

"An astute proposal," Ultimecia said. The smile that graced her painted lips was equally as cold as his as they vanished into thin air.


	16. Depressed

How many times had Firion done this? How many times had he experienced hollow losses and victories? How many times had Firion been here and done all these things before?

The questions weighed heavy on him as the knowledge of an endless conflict, combating alongside men and women whose names he may no longer be able to recall, consumed his thoughts. It pained Firion to have been such a pawn for the very thing he despises, but worst of all…

He glanced at Tidus, to whom Firion has grown close to during _this_ particular loop, and despaired. For he couldn't help but question that closeness, too. Did what they have mean anything; would it mean anything? How often had they fought together, talked and learned together, held hands or kissed or may not have even been together?

The possibilities were numerous – confusing, troubling, and heartbreaking all at once. The notion that Firion forgot hundreds, maybe even thousands, of moments with the other man almost caused his dream to falter and his determination to waver.


	17. Red

The world was on fire.

Flames rained from the sky, coming from clouds blacker than the night itself and tainted by flashes of red lightning. Tidus had difficulty breathing. The air was filled with ash and too dry in his lungs. He coughed, hacking into a hand, and turned onto his side. After a bit, Tidus sat up and surveyed the world again.

It was unadulterated chaos. Tidus panicked.

"Cloud? Cecil? Firion? Anyone?" he called. Finding his voice hoarse, he cupped both hands around his mouth. " _Heeey!_ "

Tidus got his answer, but he wasn't sure from whom. "Cease and desist your pointless barking; no one can hear your pleas. Not here."

A man in full body armor carrying a wicked looking duel-bladed sword came from behind. Tidus had seen bigger weapons, and it was nowhere near as cool or flashy as _his_ , but this guy looked capable of handling the sword. When matters came down to it, that's what counted.

"Who're you?" Tidus asked, hunkering into a stance that allowed him to spring into action if the need arose.

"I doubt such an answer will be pertinent to you. No one who visits here has remained for very long," the man said.

"Oh, yeah? Whatever. Point me in the direction out of here, and I'll be gone."

"You're quick to assume it will be that easy, are you?"

Of course it wasn't. Nothing is ever that easy.


	18. Green

The scent of battle lingered in the Planet's Core, although the green streams of energy gave no indication of having been disturbed. Cloud lingered at its center on a stone platform, grasping a red rose. Fearing he might crush the stem, he cradled the flower with all his fingers and thumb as delicately as a SOLDIER such as him could.

He examined the rose for whether or not Sephiroth had plucked a single petal out of place or mussed a thorn from its rightful position. Thankfully, it appeared as freshly cut as when Firion had let him bear witness to his dreams. Cloud felt foolish for doing this – and deep down, anxious, too – but he couldn't resist tipping his head down and burying his nose in the rose's middle to inhale the sweet smell. The floral scent was immersive, and for a moment peace was recognized.

Then the moment passed and Cloud tucked the flower safely away. He trekked onwards with the intent of taking advantage of his temporary purpose, returning the rose to its rightful owner and seeing to his friends.


	19. Tired

Onion Knight led their group. His nimble footsteps carried him ahead to act as their scout, surveying the different landscapes for threats. He never strayed too far, not wanting to risk being unable to return to his allies in a quick leap or two.

Cloud took up the rear guard to ensure they weren't ambushed. Terra was in the middle to keep a critical eye between the two as they traveled. She wanted to do more but was at a loss. Both of her traveling companions had taken up their positions and stuck to them. She'd exerted herself after her confrontation with Kefka and was admittedly weary, but Terra wanted to be useful. Terra considered voicing her concerns, in a way, and suggested she take watch in one of their stead.

The floor opened up under her boots and an imitation appeared on the sly, attacking at her legs. She cried out in surprise, jumping into the air to avoid the monster's clawed hands. Cloud and Onion Knight dove in with weapons drawn, but the manikin avoided the swords aimed at it and continued after Terra.

In retaliation, she prepared an ice spell and directed it below. The imitation was tougher than any of its predecessors and wasn't hindered when the ice crystals struck. Cloud charged upwards, hitting their enemy and redirecting it from its intended path. The manikin collided with a floating platform. Onion Knight caught up with Cloud and both of them joined forces to try and destroy it.

Unfortunately, their combined efforts weren't enough. Onion Knight was batted away as if he weighed nothing, and Cloud was forced to one knee under the attacker's blade.

"Oh no you don't!" Terra said, summoning Ifrit. The creature readily answered her call and used its strength with hers. She unloaded a barrage of flames and the imitation was incinerated without a spark striking neither Cloud nor Onion Knight.

She sighed in relief and floated downward to sit after riding through the onslaught. Terra was still remembering how to control her extreme magic and sometimes utilizing such powers left her breathless. When she opened her eyes, Terra's friends surrounded her. Cloud had bent down on one knee with Onion Knight crouched to her left.

"You all right?" Cloud asked, holding out a hand for her to take.

"Yes, of course," she said. To prove it, she accepted Cloud's offer, if only to grab a light hold at his wrist and lever herself under her own strength.


	20. Blue

Tidus looked at his crystal and ran a thumb across the smooth, rounded surface in disbelief. He'd really found it; no, he'd _earned_ it. Even with the crystal grasped in both hands it didn't dispel the fact _it was right there before his very eyes._

The sphere – because that's what it was, a manifestation that reflected his world and _himself_ – was gorgeous. It shined with a blue light that almost hurt to gaze at for too long, but he continued to examine the crystal, anyway. Tidus might have been scared that if he blinked, his crystal would disappear.

His eyebrows cinched together after this prolonged staring session. The bubbles within the sphere floated around, as per usual, but there was something else forming amongst them. An image of someone, maybe a woman, smiling a smile that was too sad to grace her face—

But no, the mirage was gone before Tidus could fully comprehend what it was he'd seen.


	21. Pissed Off

There was no one in existence that maddened Tidus worse than Jecht, his own father. It was a longstanding hatred, festering for far too long, and consoling him on the subject of his blood relative tended to infuriate him further. Nobody understood what Tidus felt, or seemed to comprehend why he couldn't stand the man, which caused him to turn testy when otherwise he was friendly.

A recent encounter with Jecht had soured his mood, and it was evident by how rough Tidus' fighting became. His slashes went wild and his counters were brutal. He'd been unable to tolerate his dad's presence less than a second and been denied his chance to rebuke the man he deemed worthy of his aggression. Thus, Tidus took out his frustrations on anything that got in his way.

The manikins their enemies controlled were just as good as any candidate. Not many decided to appear, however, which only fueled Tidus' temper. He wondered if that royal-pain-in-the-ass with the staff had ordered the minions to avoid confronting him, too. In his vexation, Tidus summoned a Blitzball and knocked it blindly into the air. A startled cry sounded from the direction he'd sent the ball hurtling, and just like that, Tidus wasn't angry anymore.

Firion had rounded a pillar and was mistakenly targeted by the Blitzball. His shield took the brunt of the assault, instinct guiding his arm to protect his face, but that fact didn't quell Tidus' embarrassment or guilt.

"Ah! Sorry about that," he said, running over and rubbing the back of his head. "I didn't see you there."

"I'm not surprised, with how intent you were," Firion said.

"Mm… Maybe I should take five." Tidus didn't really feel like resting. He may have calmed, but his body thrummed with the need to move, and sitting still wouldn't do him many favors with him this wired.

"That might be wise," Firion agreed. He'd stopped speaking, but there was obviously something he wanted to say as he struggled to find the right words.

Tidus had an idea of what it could be, and he didn't contain his scowl as he said, "I don't want to talk about it."

"That is all right. I wasn't going to infringe on your privacy. I just… You should be more careful," Firion said.

Tidus wanted to apologize a second time for nearly giving Firion a concussion, but the man waved him off. He elaborated, "Not about that. I truly forgive you. You need only to keep your emotions under control. It's out of character to see you so riled up. It has me worried."

The confession was said with such earnestness that Tidus couldn't help but appreciate the sentiment. Firion had a way of speaking that softened his lectures. He was grateful for that, at least.

"Okay, I'll save the energy for my old man! I don't want to be out of it when I see him next."

"That's not quite what I was getting at," Firion said, but he dropped the issue. He must have concluded that this was the best he could hope for in the situation.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my [writing blog on Tumblr](http://snaurus.tumblr.com/) for more content!


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